‘What can he say?’ Zarios shrugged.
Instead of the naked figure she had been sure she’d be sleeping with, he had pulled on a pair of black pyjama bottoms—only they did nothing to detract from his beauty. Even in the dimmed bedroom light she could see his reflection in the mirror, his body muscled and gleaming, the pants making him look like some martial arts expert, and just as toned and dangerous. Leaving on her panties, she pulled on a T-shirt and climbed into bed beside him. Turning off the light and rolling on her side, she braced herself for his onslaught—it never came. His breathing settled, and his body just relaxed beside hers as Emma lay twitching and restless, positive that the second she lowered her guard, allowed the heavy drape of sleep that was closing in to wrap around her, then Zarios would surely pounce.
Only he didn’t.
The usual shot of adrenaline that had been her bedmate since her parents’ death catapulted her awake at 4:00 a.m., but instead of sitting bolt upright and grappling for the light switch, having to relieve the nightmare all over again as she gulped down a drink of water, an arm heavy with sleep wrapped around her, sliding her across the bed in one easy movement. At first Emma was so stunned she didn’t resist, just lay in his arms, her heart pounding. She was infinitely grateful for the contact, felt the fear seeping out of her as his solid presence soothed.
‘Go back to sleep, Emma.’ His low voice growled a welcome order as an idle hand stroked her hair, and she wished she could obey—wished she could close her eyes and desist. Only an unchecked niggle was scratching, reminding her of his distaste when she’d walked into his office—of his first assumption as to the reason she was there.
Wandering back into the forest, tentatively she searched for that arrow he had aimed.
She had definitely had her period on the day of the funeral.
Her body was spooned into his—Zarios’s heavy arm across her waist, his hand loosely dusting her stomach, like any normal couple in bed. She struggled for a second against his unwitting affection, but deep in slumber, too comfortable to move, Zarios gripped her tighter. Emma stumbled deeper into the wilderness, locating the arrow and staring at a segment of her shattered heart. Tentatively she probed it.
She’d had her period that day, but it was six…She screwed her eyes tightly closed as she did the maths. No, it was eight weeks now since she’d had another.
‘Dorme…’ Zarios mumbled, pulling her closer towards him. ‘Sleep now.’
It was easier to ignore it, easier to cover the remains with leaves rather than probe it with a stick, to just lie in his arms and do as he told her.
Even the lazy tumescence of his manhood that stirred as he dreamed didn’t startle Emma. Instead the naturalness of it soothed.
Feeling him asleep but alive beside her, it was easy, too easy, to forget what had brought them to this point.
Maybe she was more like Jake than she realised. Because it was easier to forget about her problems than try to solve them—easier to just close her eyes and drift back to sleep, with Zarios there beside her…
CHAPTER EIGHT
DESPITE her mother’s theories, even in her art student days wild parties hadn’t been a regular feature on Emma’s agenda.
But waking in Zarios’s arms Emma got a taste of how it must feel to wake after a walk on the wild side. Every sin she had ever committed, and surely a few more to come, seemed to be laughing from the sidelines as she awoke in a strange bed, in the arms of the man she’d sworn away from.
‘What time is it?’ Zarios grumbled as she stirred awake beside him.
‘Are we still engaged?’ Emma winced, trying to do up the pieces of the jigsaw without the aid of a picture.
‘We are.’ His hot breath on the back of her neck somehow told her he was smiling. ‘And, yes, you do owe me an obscene amount of money.’
As she rolled over to face him she hoped, actually prayed, for a whiff of bad breath, for something horrible and nasty to greet her—but her prayers went unanswered. It was Zarios! Just as gorgeous as yesterday, except he seemed to have grown a beard overnight, morning shadow dense on his strong jaw. The other change in him was that for once he was smiling—this was a far more relaxed Zarios than the one she was used to seeing.
And though sensibly she knew she should recoil, there was this lovely mesh of legs… Such a mesh that Emma didn’t know where hers were, though she had a vague idea where his were, because she could feel the bit in the middle as it sort of rose to her groin to say good morning.
‘Morning.’ His eyes smiled their greeting just inches from hers. And she’d forgotten to notice his mouth—such a lovely soft, full lipped mouth—that was somehow on the same pillow…
‘Morning.’
‘You talk in your sleep,’ Zarios said.
‘You snore!’ Emma countered.
‘I don’t.’
He didn’t.
‘Why are beds so much more comfortable in the morning?’ Emma asked, after a few lovely moments of just lying there. ‘I mean, you spend half the night trying to get comfortable, but in the morning, when it’s time to get up…’
‘Don’t get up, then,’ Zarios said, nudging the duvet up around them with his shoulder and then promptly closing his eyes.
There was a strange fuzzy logic going on in her head—she could feel his tumescent manhood between them, felt so warm and safe lying with him. It would be so easy to accept the lazy kiss she knew was coming, so easy not to deny the fierce attraction that was undoubtedly between them—but at what cost?
The pain of losing him to Miranda had her rolling on her back. Emma stared at the ceiling, hearing the grumble of his sleepy protest. How much easier it would be for him, how much more pleasant it would make it for him, to have her on tap these two weeks. And how appalling for her it would be when it ended—to face once more the obstacle course of getting over him!
It was with that in mind that she hauled herself out of bed and headed for the shower.
‘How did you sleep?’ Rocco asked as Roula poured the coffee.
‘Very well! ’ Emma answered politely, smiling into her cup at Zarios’s surly expression. He was clearly rattled that for once his impressive charm hadn’t worked.
‘So what are your plans today? You are going to get a ring? And then what, Emma? Will you be working, or…?’
‘Emma’s taking a break from work for a little while…’ Zarios answered for her. ‘Since her parents’ death her painting hasn’t been going well. She needs a break.’
‘Good!’ Rocco nodded. ‘What about you, Zarios? You are in Melbourne this week, Singapore the next… You could do some shopping…’ He smiled fondly at Emma, but again Zarios had it all worked out.
‘We have the ball in Sydney. Emma will be preparing for that.’
‘And then the board meets…’ Rocco’s eyes narrowed just a fraction as he looked over to his son, and for that fleeting moment Emma was sure he had worked their scam out. ‘I spoke to your mother last night, Zarios.’
‘You called her?’ His words were like pistol shots, the ambient mood at the table suddenly plunging. ‘Why?’
‘Our son is getting engaged—it is right that she is told.’
‘She lost her right to be informed thirty years ago.’ Incensed, he stood up. ‘Why would you do that? Why would you even think to call her?’
‘Actually, I didn’t call her,’ Rocco responded calmly. ‘Your mother called me. You know she has been calling for the last few months…’
‘Since she found out you were sick!’ Zarios sneered. ‘Can’t you see what she is doing?’
‘Is it impossible for you to believe she might regret what happened?’
‘Yes,’ came Zarios’s curt reply.
‘She wants to ring you tonight—to congratulate you herself.’
‘Tell her not to bother.’
You need to forgive your mother, Zarios.’
‘It’s rather hard without even an apology from her,’ Zarios said, standing up. ‘Come,’ he called over to Emma as he strode out of the room, ‘we have to get going…’
‘I thought you were staying the weekend?’ Rocco said.
‘I’m not staying to watch you being made a fool of—and I have nothing to say to your ex-wife!’
Rocco gave Emma a tight smile at the fading sound of Zarios climbing the stairs.
‘It must be hard for him.’
‘She has never had more children, and she has never settled down. She hates herself for what she did, but she was ill…. Am I a fool, Emma?’ Sad, tired eyes searched Emma’s for an answer she simply couldn’t give. ‘Am I a fool to believe she might actually be talking to me now because she cares?’
‘I’ve never met her…’ Emma said helplessly. ‘Only you can answer that, Rocco.’
‘You’d better go.’ Rocco kissed her on the cheek, as he always did, then cuddled her for a moment. ‘He does need to forgive her, Emma. And not just for my sake—it is not good for him to carry so much hate in his heart. Talk to him…’
Which was an impossible task.
Any closeness that had been captured in the night had long since faded. Zario was driving back into the city as if the devil himself were chasing them, in absolutely no mood for a pep talk. Though she did try!